All Those Shadows Almost Killed Your Light
by bamelot89
Summary: Jimmy is Cas, Cas might be crazy, Cas isn't real, but Jimmy is hazy.
1. Don't You Dare Look Out Your Window

Cas couldn't help but stare at the man as they led him down the hall that led to the solitary cell. For one, he was _enormous_, and for two, that was _Sam_. The Sam he'd been told wasn't real. But here he was, in the same place as Cas. For a few excruciating moments, Cas' hopes soared up, but he violently yanked them back down, like a child snatching the string of a helium-filled balloon before it could float away. _Monsters aren't real_. The phrase had been branded on his brain, _not real, not real, not real_. And besides, if this was the Sam from Cas' memories, there would be a Dean. And there wasn't anyone with this man. A small sigh escaped Cas' lips. There was no Dean.

"Jimmy." He looked up as Rebekka addressed him. "It's time to eat. Everyone else is already in line."

Cas looked up and around the room. Sure enough, everyone was gone. He stood and followed Rebekka down the short hall to the kitchen.

"Rebekka," he said softly. "Who is the new guy?"

"The tall one?" she asked, her delicate brown curls bouncing slightly as they walked.

Cas nodded.

"I don't know his name," she said. "But he's very sick, no one's allowed to talk to him yet."

Cas frowned. "I see."

She smiled gently at him. "Do you want to eat at a table with some other people tonight?"

He shook his head.

"Alright, then. Remember, you have a meeting tomorrow," she said as they neared the kitchen and the end of the line.

"I will."

"I'll see you later, Jimmy."

It had been a week, and Sam was finally being let out of solitary. Cas remember the time he'd spent in that awful place and shuddered. It was lonely. And if someone found you there, you would be defenseless.

_Not real_, he reminded himself.

He took a deep breath. Rebekka would like it if he talked to someone, he knew. And he couldn't help himself—he had to talk to this man that looked so much like Sam.

The tall man was escorted to a small table and two guards backed away a few feet, giving him some space. Cas stood up from his table on the other side of the room and went over to see if he could speak with him. He approached slowly, keeping a watchful eye on the guards, but they made no move to stop him, so he sat opposite of the new arrival.

The man didn't look up.

Cas cleared his throat, stuck his hand out, and introduced himself. "I'm Jimmy."

The man's head whipped up and he froze. "_Cas?_"

Cas dropped his hand. "Jimmy," he corrected, though there was a waver in his voice. He hadn't said Cas, had he? They would be furious if they found out he still thought of himself as that. He'd said Jimmy, he had. He wasn't stupid enough to say Cas. Not anymore.

The man's eyes narrowed. "…Jimmy? Novak?"

"How did you know?" Cas asked quietly, extremely aware of the guards' presence, only a short distance away.

"What do you mean? We've met," he replied, in an equally hushed tone.

Cas' felt his heartbeat accelerate, but he ignored it. "I'm afraid not. What's your name?"

"Ca—Jimmy, it's me. _Sam_. Don't you remember?"

_Remember_.

His name was Sam.

_No._

Coincidence.

_Not real_.

"I'm sorry, no. I just came over to…" Why had he come over here? It was stupid. "…say hello."

"_You're not real_," Sam whispered, seemingly to himself.

"What?"

Sam squeezed his hand and Cas thought he glimpsed a scar on it, but he wasn't sure.

"I'm real," he assured Sam. _Sam_…but it wasn't. It couldn't be. _Monsters. Aren't. Real._ But Sam wasn't a monster…why couldn't he be real? If he was real, then Dean was real, and if Dean was real…

"Look," Sam said, eyes boring into Cas'. "You have to call Dean. He can get us out of here. Can you remember a number?"

Cas' heart all but stopped. _Dean._

No. Dean wasn't real. _It's not real._ Dean was a good thing, and good things didn't happen for Cas. Not in his memories, and not in his—Jimmy's—real life. Dean couldn't be real.

But Sam was gazing at him with the most sincere expression he'd ever seen, and…what the hell.

"Yes."

Sam rattled off the numbers quickly, but forcefully, like he was trying to engrave them into Cas' mind as he said them. He glanced nervously over his shoulder and then turned back to focus on Cas. "Can you see him?"

Cas titled his head. "Who?"

Sam pressed his fingers to his temples and covered his eyes. Cas almost thought he heard him whisper, "_Not real_," but that was crazy.

Of course, he _was_ in a mental institution. He knew that. So he probably was crazy himself, along with everyone else here. But he didn't like to think about that.

Sam suddenly leapt up, chair crashing against the floor. "It's on fire! Everything's burning!" he started shouting. "He's back! _He's back_, we have to get out!"

Cas cringed as the guards grabbed Sam's arms and wrestled him to the floor, not without a great struggle. A nurse came over and gave him an injection. After a few moments, he stopped fighting.

Cas laid in bed that night, rolling the numbers around in his brain, subconsciously burning them into his mind, right next to _Monsters aren't real_. He'd said he would call Dean for Sam. So he should. That was the right thing to do. Of course, he'd have to get his hands on a phone, but that shouldn't be too hard. All the employees had cell phones and if he couldn't get one of theirs, he could always sneak in and use the office phone. It wouldn't do to use one of his outgoing calls, because those were all recorded and how would he explain that?

When someone came around to knock on his door for the routine wake up call, he was still thinking, planning. He hadn't fallen asleep at all. He sighed and swung his feet over the bed, remembering when not sleeping hadn't mattered.

_No,_ he corrected himself. _Not real_.

Breakfast was disgusting, as was all the food here, and he only nibbled at it. If he got caught using a phone without permission, there would be serious repercussions. But he had to. Maybe the number Sam had given him wouldn't even work. Maybe it was just a random set of digits, absolutely meaningless. But still, he'd said he would call, so he would.

He glanced up and saw Rebekka chatting with Kimmy. Employees weren't supposed to use their phones when they were working, but Kimmy did all the time. No one really noticed, except for Cas, so hers would be the easiest to procure. And if she noticed it was missing, she couldn't say anything because then they'd know she used her phone when she wasn't allowed. And by the end of the day, she would have "found" it again, so even if she knew it was Cas who'd used it, she couldn't say.

Cas thought it was a good plan.

Kimmy was on watch duty, so she couldn't leave her post until breakfast was over. Cas pushed the mush on his plate around, taking an occasional bite so he wouldn't look too suspicious. Slowly, the room emptied, and when the clock's minute hand struck the twelve, Kimmy left the room. Cas dumped the majority of his food in the trash and put his plate on the counter, stacked a top all the others.

He followed her down the hall, ambling along at an easy pace. She was wearing a sweater over her scrubs and pulled her phone from one of its pockets, pushing a few buttons before returning it to its place. _Right side, sweater pocket,_ Cas thought to himself.

Today was one of the rare occasions when those with good behavior got to go outside and stay in the courtyard awhile. Luck must've been on Cas' side, because Kimmy was also scheduled as one of the people to go out with them. There was always a bit of a rush when they were going to the courtyard, because everyone wanted to spend as much time outside as possible. Cas usually didn't hurry to get there, but he followed the others at a brisk pace today, bumping into Kimmy and quickly apologizing.

He had it.

When no one was looking, he stored the phone in his sock and waited for an opportunity to present itself so he could call the number. He didn't know if he'd be able to get reception from his cell. For all he knew, the walls blocked the signal. Out here was his best chance. They had about an hour outside, but he could not get caught. Glancing around, he walked idly over to a small tree and sat on the side facing away from everyone else, and a safe distance away. It was skinny and did no good hiding him, but it made him feel less obvious. And if he rested his chin on his hand just so, and held the phone against his ear with the same hand…yes. It would work.

He reached down to "scratch" his ankle and quickly dialed the numbers—he didn't think he could ever forget them—and carefully brought his hand up to rest his chin on it.

The phone rang once.

The phone rang twice.

"Hello?"

Cas nearly let the phone slip from his grasp.

"Who is this?"

He couldn't remember how to speak.

"Hello?"

_Say something._

"Anybody there?"

"Dean—"

The other end of the line was silent and for a moment Cas panicked because that was Dean, that was Dean, that was _Dean_. That was the human that had been put in his charge, that was the man he'd given everything for, and he didn't care if he was crazy or not, because that was his Dean.

"Who…" His voice sounded unsteady and just hearing it made Cas feel…different. Better and worse simultaneously. He wanted to cry or laugh or both, but mostly he wanted to get out. Dean was real. That meant everything was real. "Who is this?"

"It's me—" Cas said stupidly. "I mean—Jimmy—no, I mean Cas. It's Cas." _I'm Cas._ "I—Sam told me to call—he's here—you have to come. Something…he's not okay." _He's real. It's real. He's real._ "We're in Cleveland. At the mental institution. In Ohio." He had to hang up. Dean knew where they were. He'd come. But Cas had to hang up.

"Hold on—"

"Goodbye, Dean."

Cas slipped the phone back into it's hiding place after shakily erasing the outgoing call.

_Dean's real._


	2. Darling, Everything's on Fire

Dean wasn't sure how long he kept the phone pressed to his ear after the call ended. His entire body seemed to have shut down, as if it had no idea how to process what just happened.

Cas called him.

Cas. Called him.

_Cas was alive._

He could fix things now. He could apologize, he could ask forgiveness, he could say all the things he hadn't said, and he could try his damnedest to take back all the things he did say.

Cas was alive.

He jammed his phone into his pocket and threw his shit together. Mental institution. Cleveland, Ohio. Sam must've really gone off the deep end. The other fucking shoe. Dean shouldn't have ever let his guard down. But it would all be alright now. Cas could fix Sam. He'd even said. He'd said if he could, he would put Sam's wall back up. Everything would be alright again. Maybe he could even bring Bobby back again—Dean slowed his racing thoughts. He had to stay focused. Get Sam out, get Cas out.

Dean felt like he was crawling, despite going thirty over the speed limit. _Just sixty more miles_, he thought to himself as he flew past a road sign.

Driving had given him plenty of time to think about the phone call. Like why Cas couldn't just zap himself and Sam out of there. Or why Cas was even there to begin with. And why when Dean called the number back, he caught the voicemail of some Kimmy chick. And how long had Cas been there for? How long had he'd been back? And why had he called himself Jimmy at first? Dean had loads of questions, all of which came from a phone conversation that couldn't have lasted anymore than a minute, the first half of which had been him waiting for a response.

Dean tried to think of what he'd do once he got to Cleveland. He could just bust in and bust out, but with the whole wanted criminal thing, that wasn't exactly the best idea. He considered going in undercover, a fellow crazy, but he'd been there, done that, and he didn't have the urge to do it again if it could be avoided.

Then there was always the conventional approach of visiting a patient. He could pose as FBI, but for once he wasn't sure if he'd be able to pull it off. This was Cas and this was his brother and he hadn't seen one in months and the other in weeks and he was so close to the edge right now—

He could always visit as family or a friend. Get a look at the place, figure out if Cas could sneak Sam and himself out, and if not, then he'd bust them both out.

Sounded like a plan.

It was 11:30 PM. He should really just wait until morning. There was no way this was visiting hours; what did he expect to happen if he waltzed in there? But here he was, his car sitting in the mostly vacant parking lot. It was one more day—just a few more hours, really, he reasoned with himself. He should just hold off. His hand wasn't listening to him and it reached for the door handle and pushed it open. Neither did his feet as they carried him across the pavement towards the building.

There was a girl at the desk, she couldn't be any more than twenty-five. Her brown hair fell in soft curls around her face and as Dean came in the door she looked up. He supposed he was lucky the doors weren't locked yet.

"I'm sorry—visiting hours are over," she said quickly.

"Yeah, I, uh, I kinda figured that. But—I've been out of the country, and I just found out my brother'd been brought here. Jimmy Novak?" he ventured a guess, and since Cas had first said Jimmy, Dean figured that was the safer bet. "I know it's late, but I haven't seen him in months and I just…" He evaluated the girl's expression—Rebekka, according to her name tag.

She looked sympathetic as she said, "I'm sorry, but if you come back tomorrow—"

"Please," Dean said, not sure why it was so important for him to see Cas right this very moment, only that he needed to. A few hours would not do. "I just—I just need a few minutes…"

She pressed her rosy lips together and let out a breath. "I can give you a few minutes—but that's it. Go down this hall," she said, pointing, take the second right and keep walking straight until you come to a set of double doors. They lead out to a courtyard. Wait there."

Dean could almost hug her, which was absolutely ridiculous because one, this girl was totally fuck-able, and two, Dean didn't hug. He settled for, "Thank you." And he meant it.

"I'm sorry," she said before walking away, "I didn't catch your name."

"Dean," he said. For a fraction of a second, Dean thought her expression changed but he couldn't be sure, and she was going down another hall before he had time to get a good look.

He followed her directions and waited outside. It was nippy out, but he didn't really notice. A year. Almost an entire _year_. After Cas' Leviathan act, Dean had been crushed. He tried to hide it and, hey, he still had Sam and Bobby, but then Bobby died, and he could tell Sam wasn't all there, and the little bits of him that remained after Cas had been slowly breaking off. He'd been crumbling, piece by broken piece. But he didn't have to—Cas could fix him again. He'd done it before. He could—

Rebekka held one of the doors open and that pale skinny frame walked through it, messy head of dark hair topping it all off. Dean missed seeing that hair.

For once, he wasn't dressed like a tax accountant—he had on white scrubs and a dark hoodie. He was thinner than Dean remembered and that scared him a little. But not just that—it was the look in his once bright blue eyes. They were cold and scared with something brimming at the edges that Dean couldn't place. It reminded him of melting ice and before he knew what he was doing, he practically ran the small distance between them and threw his arms around Cas, squeezing him tighter than he probably should have.

Dean didn't say anything, he could think of anything _to_ say. Rebekka stood just inside, allowing the two some privacy.

Cas returned the embrace fiercely, but Dean didn't miss the slight tremor that shook him.

"You're alive," he barely whispered, face pressed against the stubble on Cas' cheek.

"You're real," Cas returned.

Dean pulled back. "Of course I am. Cas, what's—" He stared at Cas, sensing something was off, but not really sure what. "How long have you been here?"

"I think the better question is how long have you _left_ me here," Cas said, voice strong on the surface. "See, I was thinking. Sam was real and you're real and that's means everything that's happened is real. _Everything_. And after all I did—after all I did for you—you just left me. Gave up on me."

Dean searched Cas' face somewhat frantically. "I'm—what are you talking about? Cas, you idied/i. You were dead. Like, _dead_ dead. I didn't think…I didn't think you were every coming back." He brought a hand to his mouth and tried not to think about how desperate he'd felt when he'd gone back to that lake after Sam and Bobby left and he'd searched and waited and paced and searched for hours and hadn't found a damn thing. "Cas, I didn't just give up. I went _back_ and I looked for you. I _waited_ for you to come back and you didn't. You were _gone_."

Cas shook his head stubbornly. "And then you just quit? You just decided—" A sob escaped his lips and he put a fist to his mouth.

"Cas—"

"I thought I was _crazy_. Hell, I thought I was full-on insane! Remembering things that never happened. Monsters, a war in Heaven, two brothers that supposedly saved the world. They told me it wasn't real. They tried to tell me I wasn't ime/i. They said I was Jimmy Novak and I had a wife and daughter, but they didn't want to see me. And you know what? I didn't want to see them! I barely even remember them! I wanted to see _you_. But you weren't there. No one was."

"Cas, you're—you're a freaking angel! Why didn't you just zap outta here?"

"Because I can't. I can't do anything. When I first got here they had to give me drugs to put me out. I didn't want to sleep—I was scared to. I was locked in a cell, completely by myself. Defenseless. Worse than that, I was in a _straight jacket_. And they all told me it would be okay, there's nothing in the dark. Do you have any idea how terrified I was? For months? I did everything I could to try and convince them, but they—"

"Why would you—you don't talk about it. Cas, you know that. I mean, you didn't used to, but you caught on. You…" Dean pushed a hand through his hair. "You're human."

Cas put a hand up to cover his eyes and tried to still his shaking body. "I don't remember everything," he said. "There's pieces missing and I can't get them back. I've tried and I've tried—" He dropped his hand and looked Dean straight in the eye, everything torn away. "I don't know what I did. I don't know why you can't forgive me."

For a second, Dean swears the world is falling. It's no longer in alignment with the other planets and they're just falling, falling, falling, falling like Castiel fell. Falling like the future. Like 2014. Cas, who stayed with him, who stayed by his side, even when Sam said yes to Lucifer. Cas who rebelled and fought and died and gave everything over and over and over for Dean. _His Cas. His angel_. He couldn't remember why, but he'd remember Dean had never given him forgiveness and it was obviously tearing him to shreds.

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas again, tried to shield him from the past and all the while knowing he couldn't take back what he'd said. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why was he always so stupid? "Cas, I'm sorry. I'm sorry and I forgive you."

Cas shook quietly in his arms and Dean buried his fingers in Cas' hair and held him even tighter. "You're okay," Dean said, voice cracking. "You're okay. I'm gonna get you and Sammy out and we're gonna fix things."

_We're gonna fix things._


End file.
